


Never go to Alpha Centauri without me

by pollitt



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable kisses, Kissing at the Ritz, M/M, They're on their own side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: “Home, angel?” Crowley had asked, looking down at the black leather folder at his elbow where he knew the bill to be. He very nearly paid it but he didn’t want Hell back to keeping score quite so soon. The check went up like flash paper with a satisfying *poof*.(An episode 6 tag.)





	Never go to Alpha Centauri without me

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a prompt from propinquitine "The next miracle Aziraphale enacts after averting the apocalypse (and escaping heavenly/hellish punishment)." Aziraphale got a bit dramatic (I know, we're all shocked) and my bingo square of Crowley and Aziraphale kissing at the Ritz has been stamped.
> 
> Originally posted on Tumblr, it's been edited and expanded for here. 
> 
> Thank you to dogearad for the beta.

“Home, angel?” Crowley had asked, looking down at the black leather folder at his elbow where he knew the bill to be. He very nearly paid it but he didn’t want Hell back to keeping score quite so soon. The check went up like flash paper with a satisfying *poof*.

“Could we, that is, would you.” Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed slightly for reasons that had nothing to do with the rather lovely bottles of champagne they had just enjoyed. “You did say something the other night about staying at yours. I would like to see the bookshop, of course, and while I was just at yours--”

“ _Please_ tell me I won’t find a tartan nightshirt,” Crowley said, his brow wrinkling at the thought.

Aziraphale ignored the plea and rested his hand over Crowley’s. “I want to stay. With you.”

Despite all that had happened, all they had just witnessed and had survived, Aziraphale half-expected the world to shift off its axis. Instead, for what may truly have been the first time since almost The Beginning, the world turned perfectly.

“You sure?” Crowley asked, knowing what trouble and heartache asking a question could bring, but still unable to stop himself. 

Aziraphale stopped time.

They remained at the Ritz. There was nary a grain of sand of Creation nor an outstretched wing to be seen -- but all around them (including above and below) everything paused. Perhaps what happened next wouldn’t determine the fate of all of existence, but it would greatly affect his own. 

“I am,” Aziraphale answered. _Quite possibly since that first rain, when I sheltered you under my wing._ was left unsaid for now. “You were right. About our own side. We should be an our.”

Crowley’s eyes were wide behind his sunglasses. Crowley might know what Aziraphale smelled like (a revelation Aziraphale is still thinking of days later) but Aziraphale knows every nuance of Crowley’s face and the many details of Crowley’s expressions -- the arching of his eyebrows, the lift of his cheek, his eyes (be they behind sunglasses or not.) This expression -- _half agony, half hope’_ \-- was one Aziraphale hadn’t seen in some time. 

“Never go to Alpha Centauri without me,” he said. And in a flat located across London, an astronomy book whose pages had been strewn across the floor like a newly birthed universe found itself rebound, its spine uncracked, and resting on the desk next to a plant and Crowley’s answering machine. 

Aziraphale closed his other hand around Crowley’s and held tight. “In fact. I’d like if you’d not go anywhere without me again.”

“You know how I feel about rules,” Crowley said, with a warmth in his voice that Aziraphale was only now recognizing was just for him. 

Crowley looked down at their hands and smiled. There may have been a question (from scholars, theologians, bureaucrats on both sides) whether demons could feel pure, true happiness, but Crowley didn’t care because he could and he did. He leaned in. “But I think I could see to agreeing to that one.” 

Crowley kissed Aziraphale, and Aziraphale kissed him in reply.

Existence exhaled.

Time restarted. 

Aziraphale stood up from his chair and extended his hand. “Well, then let’s go home.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow, in updating this fic for posting a _Persuasion_ reference found its way into the text. I blame the angel.


End file.
